A Light in the Dark
by emstress
Summary: Modern day, EC fic. Erik is a student at the local university, determined to live alone in the dark until one day when he meets Christine, a fellow student. Will he live with her in the light or will he only bring her darkness?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Just a friendly hello, and welcome to my fic! This is my first time writing, so I would appreciate any helpful comments! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, or any of the song lyrics used. **

The Phantom

"Shit!" he growled as he slammed the lid down over the keys of the instrument. The heat from his hands created a ghost-like print upon the ebony surface. As he watched the hand prints fade away he realized that he had to accept that his attempt at practicing was not going well. He was distracted; annoyed with the way his lesson had gone, which had been poorly. His teacher was firm, and he had not been playing up to his and especially not _her_ standards. Madame Giry had dismissed him a half an hour early saying in her cultured accent,

"Go, Erik, you are troubled, you have been for weeks. You are no good to me and you are no good to _music_ in this state. Search your soul, discover what troubles your mind and come back to me and to music when you are at peace."

She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked deep in his eyes, as though searching for some hidden secret.

"Yes, Madame," he replied coldly, allowing his frustration with himself to turn to anger towards his teacher. Madame Giry was the closest Erik had ever had to a mother, and she knew him well enough to know when she should be concerned. He respected and resented her for this. She made him care about his life; she was the reason that he was here at all.

He knew what was troubling him, and had known for weeks. It was the same problem that always plagued him. His desire to live a normal life fought with the knowledge that he never could. There were many of life's experiences that he had missed out on, and many more that he would miss out on. There would be no wife, no children, no loving family. Every time his thoughts wandered down this path it was as if a black cloud would descend. It was a cloud he could never shake no matter how hard he tried. It clung to him like mist.

He walked to his favorite practice room, deciding that if Madame Giry would not push him tonight, he would push himself to play well. This was how he found himself, at 10:30 at night, shouting obscenities at a piano like the madman he could be. After slamming his fists down, he slowly dropped his head to the instrument, his body slumped over in a posture of absolute defeat and frustration. Eventually he sat up, and knowing in his heart that he would accomplish nothing else this evening, he packed up his books, and left the room. Even if he had been getting work done, it was time to go; he had an early appointment with Nadir tomorrow. He eased into the hallway, thankful for the darkness that allowed him to creep along in shadows, features unrecognizable, although at this time at night it hardly ever mattered, not even the dedicated music students practiced this late during the summer. He was still cautious however, just in case someone was around. Then his heart froze as he heard music coming loudly from around the corner. He looked down the hallway, and saw that the lights were on in what he thought was the band library. Who would be there so late at night, and playing music so loudly? The music was bright and folksy and as the chorus came in he heard a clear, pure voice singing along with it.

_And it's you and me in the sun and sea_

_I'll offer my arm to yours_

_It seems to me no mystery_

_It isn't so I'll try hard to speak_

He felt entranced, and had actually started walking towards the light, when he saw shadows within the room creep towards the hallway. Erik spun around, and dashed around the corner before he could be seen. He leaned against the wall and berated himself. He had almost been seen! He left the building from another exit and wandered back to his apartment to sleep, only to be haunted by dreams filled with that clear, pure voice.

He awoke the next morning to the sun streaming in through his window, the patch of light stopping just shy of his bed, as if it was afraid of the darkness that lived there. He glanced at the clock and saw that he still had a half an hour before he had to get out of bed. He lay there, watching the sunlight stroll across his floor, edging ever closer to his bed, but never quite touching. He reached out a tentative hand, as if to welcome the light before drawing quickly away, as if burned.

He went to his session with Nadir. Nadir Khan was his therapist, had been since Erik was 18. Erik had been an angry young man, and it was Madame Giry's insistence that had led him to Nadir's office. Nadir had gained Erik's trust from the first phone call. At that time in his life, Erik had blatantly refused to be out in public during day light hours, and told Nadir as much. Nadir agreed to do a late night session, and after he had gained Erik's trust, had urged him to be out more during the day. There had been many ups and downs through out their relationship, but it was all worth it. Erik would now come to Nadir's office early in the morning, while the sun was out, but there were less people around. Nadir hoped that someday Erik would realize that he could live the life he so desperately wanted, but always denied himself.

"Good morning, Erik."

"Nadir."

"And how has your week been?"

"Distracted."

"Tell me how."

"The same as it always is, Nadir. And you know it. I still have a desire for a normal life, to live and laugh and love as a man was meant to."

"But you can have a normal life, Erik."

"No," Erik paused, hesitant. "I can't."

"Why do you believe you can't?"

"Because of this," he gestured up to his face. "Because of my abnormalities."

"Erik, you speak of your abnormalities, but if you would actually take the time to get to know others you would find that you are no more abnormal than your average young man."

"Even if that were true, who would I talk to? I never see anyone throughout my day except for my professors."

"Well, Erik, my lad, you don't see anyone because you choose to take your day at night whilst everyone else is sleeping. So you say that you never meet anyone in the music building at night? Not even janitors?"

"I hardly ever see anyone."

"But you do see some people then? Who was the most recent? When was the last time someone other than me or Madame Giry saw you?"

"Last night . . . well, she didn't see me, and I didn't see her. I heard her singing down a hallway, and panicked."

"Well, tell me about her?"

"I can't tell you anything about her. All I know is that she had a lovely singing voice."

"Why didn't you introduce yourself if you thought she had a nice voice?"

"I was scared."

"Why were you scared?"

"You know why."

"Humor me."

"Because she would see my mask and then wonder. And then she would ask questions, and I don't want to answer them. Even if she didn't ask, if she was polite, I'd still see the questions in her eyes. She would only befriend me out of a morbid curiosity."

"Erik, not everyone will be hateful, or harmful, or cruel to you because of your appearance. I know that you've met your share of hurtful people, and many of them were people who should have loved you unconditionally. And I can't guarantee what this girl is like. I don't know how she'll behave towards you. I don't know how anyone will behave towards you. But you don't know either. Assuming the worst of this girl puts you on the same level as people who have harmed you. You both are judging on assumptions, on first impressions, and we all know how accurate those can be. I won't promise that you won't get hurt, Erik, but I do promise that I'll let you yell at me about it if you do. Just think about it."

"Any other words of wisdom?" replied Erik frostily.

"When you use that tone with me, I know I'm correct. Continue to think about it, Erik. That's all for this week, goodbye."

Erik stood up and walked out the door without another word.

He left his session deep in thought about what Nadir had told him. In his heart, Erik knew Nadir was right. "That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," he muttered to himself. There were people in his life that loved him. Nadir himself and Madame Giry were concerned for his well-being. Both had seen his face, and had not run from him. Somehow, they both let him know that they were sorry about his face and his life, without making him feel miserable about it all. But there was another voice in his head, the one that loved to play devil's advocate. Over the years he had learned to ignore this voice, this demon, but sometimes it came creeping out. Now it was arguing with his hope that he could gain more friends. "Two out of how many, Erik?" whispered the voice. "Plenty of people have seen your face and ran . . . or laughed, or even screamed. Nice odds." Without knowing how, Erik found himself at the door to his attic apartment. He had found the place through Madame Giry; the owners of the house were a retired couple from her church. They often traveled, left Erik alone, and asked a reasonable price for the apartment, and also, they didn't charge Erik for utilities. They had told him that they weren't looking to make money in their old age; they had enough to get them through. They mainly thought it was a good idea to have someone in the house while they were away on their trips, and having a renter live in the spacious, open attic seemed like just the thing. Even after two years of living there, Erik was still surprised by the space. One could almost call it the third story of the house. The walls were high, and there was enough height that Erik only had to stoop when he was in the farthest corners. It was not just a good place, it was a good home.

Erik decided to wait a few days before returning to Madame Giry. He could not stay away from music, however, and that night he found himself in his favorite practice room playing and practicing and pouring his heart and soul into music. He had spent the last two hours practicing his lessons music, which included some wonderfully impressionistic Debussy, and now he wanted to work on his own, to continue his compositions. He had been working easily for a half hour, scribbling notes on the page and continually playing passages as he made changes when he suddenly reached a dead end. He had another theme he wanted to work into the piece, but he couldn't hear where it was meant to go. Or maybe it was meant for another piece. Suddenly he was unsure of what the melody even was. His muse had fled him as quickly as she had come. He dropped his pencil, ran his hands through his hair and stretched his sore muscles. He had been sitting at the piano bench for the last three hours and his body was beginning to protest. He stood, and as he turned, he caught his reflection in the mirror behind him. He didn't look often, but tonight he felt compelled.

He surveyed himself in the mirror. He started at the floor and traveled up his tall frame. Standing straight and tall, as he always did, he was several inches over six feet. In his youth he had been lanky and gangly with it, with little grace or ease of movement. Now, at the age of 26 his body had filled out. He was solid and strong, and through Yoga he had toned his muscles and taught himself grace and ease of movement, which had been a suggestion from Nadir because of its calming effects. His height and his bulk gave him a powerful, intimidating aura. At last he brought his gaze up to his face. He had a suspicion that the lines around his mouth and eyes were noticeable only to him. He was the only person in the world who was that intimate with his features. He looked at his mask and grimaced. His mask was made of leather, thin and molded perfectly to his face. It also perfectly matched his skin tone; in dim lighting very few people realized he wore it. _If they only knew the truth_, he thought darkly. But before his thoughts could continue down that dark path, he stopped himself and used a technique Nadir had taught him. Instead of focusing on the aspects he loathed, he looked again and searched for something positive to say. He studied his reflection intently, and decided that today's positive thought was how intense he was. His entire form was intimidating, and he was proud of that, but to top it all off his deep green eyes flashed with power. Yes, he was intense.

He turned from the mirror to look at his composition again, but he wasn't ready to continue work. He reached into his gig bag, pulled out his copy of Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy and left the practice room, intending to head up to the second floor to his favorite hiding spot. In a random, hidden corner outside the Recital Hall balcony there was a large, overstuffed chair that was ideal for reading and napping. He would give himself a half hour break, and then he would go back and finish his piece. His plans changed however as he turned the corner. Once again, a light was on in the band library, and music was pouring out of the door. Once again he felt entranced, and walked toward the light, and the voice. He crept along the wall, keeping to the shadows. He stopped right before a large window that seemed to have been built just for him. He could hide in a shadow that was cast, but still view the entire room. For some unfathomable reason he was afraid to look, as if he was on the edge of a precipice, and to look would be to fall. Finally he steeled his courage and looked into the room.

She had her back to him, and her head was bent down, staring at something on the screen of a copy machine. She was on the tall side of average, and some how he knew that if he were to embrace her, his chin would rest perfectly on her head. Her hair was a deep chocolate brown, and he was unsure of the length, although it had to be long because of the elaborate messy bun that it was in. She wore a tank top that was the color of the ocean, which contrasted nicely with her chocolate brown gypsy skirt. But the most fascinating aspect of this girl was her voice. It was true, and untrained. There was purity in it that he had never heard before. He listened with absolute joy and she sang a tune that he recognized from a child's cartoon movie.

_So this is love? Mmmhmmmhmmm_

_So this is love?_

_So this is what makes life divine?_

She punched a button on the copy machine, and then began to perform a swaying, swinging dance to match her song. Her loose skirt flowed around her bare legs, and he saw a wooden beaded anklet around her left ankle. Her feet were bare with a pair of flip-flops resting casually by the copier. On her toes was a shade of bright pink. Just as she began to reach the height of her dance, the copy machine stopped, and she stopped spinning mid-twirl, the spell broken. As she stepped towards to the copy machine, he stepped away from her, and away from the light.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I just wanted to say "Thanks!" to those who reviewed! It means a lot! I'll try to update the next chapter a little bit sooner than I did this one!**

Christine

The next night she was there again, and so was he. She was there the night after that, and so was he. And the night after that. And again, the night after that. Nadir had politely informed him that he had a personality that needed routines, in truth; Erik knew he was habit-forming, and already she was one. He was even changing his schedule for her. Typically he would not arrive at the music building until well after dark, once everyone was gone. But now he would leave his apartment just after dusk, and when he arrived, there were still people practicing. He stayed in shadows and wore a black fedora that cast a shadow across the mask. He placed a sheet of paper over the window of the practice room to block prying eyes. He thought that having others practice around him would be a cacophony; but in reality it was a symphony. Classical, baroque, romantic, impressionistic, contemporary, serial and jazz all created a riot of sound in his head, and he became inspired to compose like never before. He had pieces forming, all of a similar vein, and he wasn't sure if it was a symphony or an opera or a ballet, but it was something, and it was good. Each evening he added more notes to his work, and each night he added more information about the girl in the band library.

He discovered that she listened to and enjoyed all kinds of music from pop-rock to show tunes to classical to opera. He assumed she was a runner; one night she came in wearing gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat. That night she listened to hits from the 70's and 80's. He actually laughed out loud at how much she was enjoying "Play that Funky Music." The laugh was loud enough that it would have been heard by her if she had been listening to her music more softly. Each night she sang, and each night he grew to understand her voice more. She sang because she loved singing and she loved music. There was no pretension about her voice. She just truly loved to sing. He had watched her for a week, and was completely fascinated by her. He found he wanted to know more.

It was this and the fact that he had not talked to the woman in a week, that prompted him to return to Madame Giry. She was the mother of the music building. She knew what was going on in many students' lives, and she would be able to answer his questions. He had to find a subtle way to ask her, it would be hard; Madame was very clever, and very aware of his habits. He couldn't ask about the girl out right, he didn't want Madame to know that he was curious. The only idea that came to his head was that he needed a score and who should he talk to in the band department about getting one. It wasn't fool proof, but it would do. His desire to know more outweighed his desire to keep his curiosity hidden. This should have been a sign.

That night he went to Madame Giry's office and knocked on the door. After flinging the door open, she began to reprimand him for leaving her no word for so long. Then she attempted to give him a hug, for coming back so soon. This was a routine they had. She had never actually succeeded in giving Erik a hug. Usually she would take a step towards him with open arms, and he would stand his ground, giving her a deep glare that stopped Madame in her tracks. She would then raise an eyebrow at him and say,

"Someday, Erik, we will hug."

His simple response was always, "Perhaps, Madame, but today is not that day."

She then invited him into her office, had him take a seat and asked,

"So, Erik, you have darkened my doorway, are you ready to return to Music?"

"Yes, Madame. And because I have been so very rude as of late, I would like to do something for you. What would you say to moving my lesson to an earlier time?"

"Erik, someday you will learn that you are truly a charming man, when you desire to be. I know that tone of voice, sir. When you take that tone with me, you only want me to think that I am getting what I want, but in reality, what I want just happens to coincide with what you want.

I know you've been practicing earlier in the evening than usual Erik, I've heard you. Has Nadir finally charmed you into enjoying the daylight hours? I'm not sure what purpose this serves, Erik, but since it allows me to go home earlier I won't argue. Mondays and Thursdays at six, yes?"

"Yes, Madame, that would be wonderful."

"As I thought it would. Now I will be able to go home and see Meg for a late supper.

Now, young sir, onto music. I heard you last night, the Debussy sounds excellent, you have brought new life to it. Your own work is coming along well also, are you starting a new artistic phase? There is a lightness to your work that I've not heard before.

We are done with the Schoenberg, I am tired to death of that serialist nonsense, but continue to work on everything else, it will make for a good recital someday."

Before she could continue he asked,

"How long did you listen?"

"Oh, nearly an hour and I wasn't the only one. Many people were entranced by your playing. When you're on form, Erik, you really are amazing."

As she talked she walked over to her book case, and ran her fingers across the spines.

"Ahhh, here," she cried and handed him a book. "this is what you'll work on next."

He looked down and saw a well worn copy of Gershwin's _Rhapsody in Blue_.

"Madame, there is no reason for me to learn this piece. It is a showy concert piece. I will never play it to an audience, why bother?"

"You will bother because it is music, Erik." Madame snapped in her coldest tones. "Whether you play it in public or not, it is still music, it still touches the soul, and should still be learnt. To perfection." She snapped her teeth on the final syllable as if to further strengthen her point.

"And while were on the topic," she continued more gently, "it is a shame that you will not play in public, Erik, you could be world famous if you wanted. Above all, music is meant to be shared, it is for everyone."

"You know why I will never go public, Madame," Erik replied, the nickname that was normally spoken so tenderly rendered harsh and formal by his tone.

"Yes, yes, yes, enough of that anger, let's not get into it tonight, there are much more important things to do. Back to _Rhapsody_. You know the best way to practice it, start slowly, learn all the notes correctly. It would be wise to find a score so you can see the orchestral parts, or the band department just got in an excellent arrangement for the wind ensemble, Christine was just telling me about it this afternoon. She said it's very true to the original, she was. . ."  
"Christine?"

"Yes, one of Meg's dearest friends, she's really very lovely."

"And Christine knows about the piece because. . ."

"Oh, well, she knows about the piece because she is the band librarian. You might have seen her, she often works late at night during the summer, you know all the work that she has to do for the marching band, the poor thing. . ."

Madame Giry continued talking, mostly about how students these days worked too hard, didn't save anytime for fun.

"No social life to speak of, just like you Erik, you need to go out and socialize. . ."

As much as he disliked people, Madame Giry always made him feel . . . easy with himself. There had been many nights in her office when he could almost forget he wore a mask, could almost forget the reason why he wore it. She talked to him like he was normal, _Nadir would argue that you are normal, Erik,_ input his inner monologue. He also enjoyed her habit of frequently repeating his name. At first he thought it was so she could remember it, but after months of the habit continuing he had to ask her why she did it. Her response was,

"Everyone likes to hear their own name, it makes us feel good, makes us happy. So why shouldn't I say your name. I like to make people happy."

And she was right, in a way, it was always nice to hear her say his name.

"ERIK!"

He winced, this time the sharp tone of his name gave him little joy.

"You are not paying attention! Distracted again so easily?"

"Yes, Madame, I admit I am distracted tonight. I'll waste no more of your time but instead I will leave for the night, I have my assignments to practice and I will see you Thursday at six."

Erik left this lesson smiling. It turned out that he did not have to ask Madame Giry about the girl after all.

He walked down the hall from Madame Giry's office and when he turned the corner he saw that the lights were once again on in the band library. Buoyed by the joy of seeing Madame Giry again he decided to walk down and get the score for _Rhapsody_. Madame had said it would be a good idea, after all, and he always tried to do what Madame said.

"Christine," he whispered.

Her name was a song. He finally understood what Bernstein and Sondheim meant in the song _Maria._ He closed his eyes and began to sing.

_Maria,_

_Say it loud and there's music playing,_

_Say it soft and it's almost like praying._

_Maria,_

_I'll never stop saying,_

_Maria._

"That was lovely, I love that musical, and you sang so beautifully."

Erik froze and his heart leapt to his throat. His eyes flew open to look into the crystal blue depths of a girl's. Of Christine. He had no words.

"I always wanted someone to sing that to me, thank you for the wonderful serenade."

She smiled and looked him in the eyes, and in the darkened hallway, where he knew she would have trouble seeing his mask, he suddenly felt calm and confident, much like he did with Madame Giry.

"Did you need something?"

He found his voice.

"Yes, I need the score to _Rhapsody in Blue_. Madame Giry said that the band department had just received a transcription."

"Madame . . . oh, Dr. Giry! Yeah, she was asking about it the other week, it just came in this morning." A look of realization dawned on her face and she continued, "You must be the brilliant student she was talking about! She thinks the world of you!"

"Madame is a wonderful person who does not always see the faults of her students," he said simply.

"Not from what I hear from Meg. Apparently quite a few people leave their lessons crying. But then again, who hasn't? It's happened to me often enough." She glanced up then and caught his puzzled glance. "Well, perhaps you haven't." She then turned her gaze directly to his and said, "It would take a lot more than Dr. Giry to make you cry."

Suddenly, Erik could not breathe. Her gaze and her voice pierced his heart. He was reminded of his mask, and what was underneath it. He panicked, not knowing what to do or say. She turned away walking towards the band library, and in that moment he fled.

"I can't give you the original, I haven't stamped it yet, and anyways, I don't hand out originals to students, but I can make you a copy. . ." she turned back towards him and found he was gone. There was no sign of him anywhere in the hallway, and for the rest of the night, she wondered if she had imagined him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So it's been, you know, a year since I updated. Sorry 'bout that. Also, I'm using the letter E as a scene break. If you are reading this, enjoy!   
**

"Meg, it was the strangest thing, even now I'm not sure if it happened. Maybe I'm just going crazy. It's quite possible you know. Maybe all that toner is finally starting to get to me," cried Christine. Meg was Christine's best friend, had been since they were in high school together. They were sitting in Christine's apartment, enjoying the sunshine and breeze that poured through the kitchen windows as they ate their lunch. They had done this everyday of summer term, and even though summer classes were over they decided to continue eating lunch together until Fall semester started in a couple weeks.

"You don't work around the copy machine that much, Christine," replied Meg, shaking her head so her blond curls bounced and her blue eyes flashed.

"Clearly, you have never copied music for a two-hundred piece marching band before. It's a _lot_ of music," said Christine, tilting her head to look over her glasses in what Meg called "the teacher look."

"Oh, Christine, if it bothers you that much, just ask Mama. I'm sure she'll know what's going on. She said he's a brilliant pianist, you know how weird you instrumentalists can be. It's probably all just a part of his 'tortured artist' personae."

Meg was a dance major, while Christine was Music Education. They always teased each other about their chosen majors.

"You're right, Meg, I'll just ask your mom. She'll explain it."

"Great, come to dinner at my house tonight, you can ask her then."

"Sounds great, what time should I be there?"

"Six o' clock! And on that note, I have to go, if I'm late for work again, Maurice will kill me," and with that Meg grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

Christine continued to sit at the table staring out at the park that was across the street. She thought about the man she saw in the hall last night; she wanted to remember every detail of the event. He had been tall, much taller than her, and he dressed in dark clothes. The hallway had been so dark; she hadn't seen his features clearly. "Tall, dark, and handsome indeed. . . Well, tall and dark at least," she said to herself. She continued to stare out her window watching the sunlight play through the trees until a passing cloud cast a shadow over the scene.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Six o' clock that evening found Christine welcomed warmly into the Giry's home. Christine was a regular fixture in their household. Christine's parents were no longer alive and Dr. Giry had become a kind of surrogate parent. Christine valued the wisdom that Meg's mother had to offer and she also loved all of the stories that Dr. Giry told about her travels around the world. Christine was so wrapped up in these tales that she forgot to mention her encounter with the strange man until dessert.

"I think I met one of your students last night, Dr. Giry. He was asking for the _Rhapsody in Blue_ score."

"Well, I only have one student that is working on that piece, it must have been him.

"It was kind of odd. I heard him singing in the hallway, and we started talking, but when I turned to get the score he disappeared."

"Well, sometimes Erik is a little shy. He doesn't talk to many people that I know of. He went to you to ask for the score?"

"Well, I caught him singing in the hallway, he has a lovely voice. I asked him if he needed something and he asked me for the score. We talked about you, about lessons, and then when I turned to go get the score for him, he disappeared! I've never seen him before, and don't know when I'll see him again, so do you want me to give you the score? When is your next lesson with him, I can get it to you by then."

"That's very kind of you, Christine. Our next lesson is tomorrow evening at six. There are some other scores he'll need as well, how about you stop by at a quarter after, and we can all go down to the band library together and get what's needed."

Madame Giry's mind worked quickly. As long as she had known Erik, he had never sought anyone else out. If he was seeking out a friend, then she would do everything in her power to help, even if it involved a little deception. She would help Erik befriend Christine whether he liked it or not.

"Sounds great, Dr. Giry!"

No mention of Erik was made for the rest of the meal and at the end of the evening Christine left with the promise that she would see Dr. Giry tomorrow.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

At the same time that Christine was saying good-bye to the Giry's, Erik was sitting in his apartment, sipping a glass of wine and wishing desperately for a cigarette. Typically, when he had a nicotine craving he would go practice piano. It was how he learned to stop smoking. Nadir had told him about it.

"Whenever you crave a cigarette," he had said, "or really, any habit you wish to remove, make yourself do something else. Eventually you will train your body to crave the other habit. It's best to replace it with a good habit though, or else you just have another bad habit to deal with, and what's the point."

And that's what Erik did. When he would crave a cigarette, he would go practice piano. When he wanted a drink, he would go practice piano. And when he was tempted by a lovely lady, he would go practice piano. His skill on piano had been hard won through his defeat of his "bad habits." After several years of living a very austere life he had learned moderation. He knew he could enjoy a glass of wine in the evenings. He knew that the only woman who would satisfy him was one that was an eager and willing partner, not one that was paid for.

Yes, he should go practice piano right now. However, to practice he needed to go to the music building. And if he went to the music building he might see Christine. And if he ran into Christine, he would most definitely make a fool of himself, much like he did last night. This was why he was now sitting in his apartment, desperately craving a cigarette and doing absolutely nothing about it.

He thought about Christine. Before last night her voice had been his only focal point. But now that he had really seen her, he was smitten. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her hair, her eyes, she was amazing. He had to find a way to see her again. But he did not want to be a fool. Or a stalker for that matter. He downed the rest of his glass and realized that his one glass of wine this evening had been a whole bottle. He laughed and the spoke aloud, "Well, Erik, my boy, so much for moderation." With that he turned to his bed and fell asleep, to another night of dreams haunted by bare feet dancing under a swaying skirt and a pair of flashing blue eyes.

His sleep was not the only one that was disturbed. That night Christine dreamt of a tall, dark stranger who kept disappearing around dark corners.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He awoke the next morning feeling acidic and still a little drunk. And five minutes late for his morning appointment with Nadir. He began to rush around trying to make himself presentable for his appointment, realized that it was a futile task, and then ran out the door.

At twenty minutes past his appointment time, Erik walked in through the door.

"Good morning, Erik. I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Nadir said as he looked up from his newspaper and taking a sip of his coffee.

"I apologize, Nadir. I was detained this morning." Erik sat in his usual chair and tried desperately not to groan and clutch his head.

"Did you have a late night?" asked Nadir.

"An overindulged one."

"What happened?"

"I drank a little too much wine last night."

"How much is a little too much?"

Erik hesitated. He did not want to tell Nadir he drank a whole bottle of wine, even if it was accidentally. Nadir would then ask him why he was that distracted, and he'd have to tell him about Christine. He definitely did not want to tell Nadir about Christine. Somehow he knew that Nadir would worm it out of him. Maybe not this session, but definitely in the next two. It was inevitable. He shouldn't fight it. If Erik was in the mood to be rational, he would admit that it was good that his therapist knew how to get these topics, these were the things he needed to talk about. But Erik was not in the mood to be rational.

"Let's just say it was too much. Not dangerously too much. Just more than I should have."

"Is there any particular reason you drank more than you should have?"

"Isn't it possible that I was just enjoying my evening, and just didn't realize how much I had drunk?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You brood."

"Fine. If you must know the truth I was 'brooding' over a piece of music I'm composing. It's proving to be a rather tricky little piece."

"I don't quite believe that either. If you were that involved in a piece of music, you would have been sitting at a piano, not sitting at a bottle."

"A piano was inaccessible at the time."

Nadir just gave him a look over the top of his glasses.

"Fine. That's not entirely correct."

"Oh really?"

"A piano was accessible, but only if I went to the music building and going to the music building meant running the risk of bumping into. . . .her." He shook his head in disgust at himself. He couldn't even say her name.

"What have you done to Dr. Giry now?"

"This is a different her."

"A different her. That is interesting. . ."

"It is the exact opposite of interesting because it's nothing. I'm going to change my schedule again so I won't be in the building when she is. I won't make a fool of myself."

"Oh, Erik. . .maybe you need to make a fool of yourself. Besides Dr. Giry really enjoys the new lesson time. . .you wouldn't want to disappoint her so soon."

"How do you know it would disappoint her . . . no, wait . . . how do you know we changed lesson times?"

"We attend the same church, remember? I asked her how your lessons were going and she mentioned that you changed the time."

"Well, Madame just attends church with everyone, now doesn't she." Erik said coldly.

"It would seem that way. Are you going to tell me what happened with this girl? Or are we going to sit in silence until the end of your session. It's your choice. . .but right now I think it's important to talk about what happened."

"Nothing did happen. . .that's the point."

Again, Nadir gave a questioning look over the top of his glasses.

"It's hard to explain. Madame Giry sent me down to the band library to get a score. The only reason I went was because it gave me a chance to talk to this girl. . .the one I heard singing the other night. I've been. . . .watching her as she works in the band library. She's beautiful, and funny. . .she truly has the loveliest voice. I don't know why, but I felt the need to talk to her. And I started to talk to her. . .but then I panicked. She looked at me. . .and it was like she knew me. . .all of the good and the bad. I couldn't handle that knowledge and I fled. She probably thinks I'm completely insane. . .which is not far from the truth, since I'm sitting here talking about someone that I know nothing about beyond her taste in music."

"Erik. . .why do you think you are afraid of this girl knowing everything about you?"

"Because if anyone knew everything about me they would run. Not everything about me is lovable."

"I know a great deal about you Erik, and I don't run. There's more about you to love than you think."

"That's only because I pay you."

"You know that's not true."

"I know it. . .but I can't trust it. Not yet."

"We'll work towards it. We'll get there. That I promise you. I believe that is our time."

Erik stood and began to walk out the door. He turned to look at Nadir and whispered a simple, "Thank you" and then left.


End file.
